Lady Death
by FalconLux
Summary: SSHG - Evil!Hermione - During the battle at the Ministry, Hermione falls through a mirror and lands in 1943. Setting is 1996 as we follow Hermione's quest to destroy Voldemort for her own reasons with (hopefully chronological) flashbacks to the events spanning 1943-1996. There will be some Tomione in flashbacks only.
1. 16 August 1996

**Author's Note:** Canon through OoTP – or very nearly, at least. This is set in the summer before sixth year.

**Content Warning:** What follows will include bashing of just about everyone. If you don't like that, stop reading now. Hermione is NOT nice in this fic.

**BTW:** I blame insomniac plot bunnies on crack for this little treasure.

**Disclaimer: **Characters, universe, etc. belong to J. K. Rowling. And that's not me. This is of no monetary value to me, and I can only take credit for the plot.

* * *

That summer was the longest of Hermione's life – and that was saying something. When she finally escaped her parents' house, she did so only to find herself in the Burrow. There was no privacy to be had in the cramped confines of that ridiculous hovel. She roomed with Ginny, who _would not _shut up about Harry, and she found herself enduring far too many sexually charged glances from Ron.

Withholding the urge to curse him until he begged for death was a constant strain.

The only bright point was when Severus visited, and he never stayed long. Worse, he didn't even know who she really was. She'd recruited him back in the day, swathed in enough glamor to look nothing at all like herself, and he'd known her under that guise since. The years had only made him more stunning in her opinion. "Handsome" in the traditional sense had ceased to impress her a long time ago. After Tom, well, no one could really measure up in the traditional sense of male beauty. Severus was… wonderfully unique, and refreshingly male.

He rarely stayed at the Burrow very long, but her opportunity presented itself at last when he was forced to spend the night up in Percy's old room. Hermione waited until the house slept, then crept up to his room. She let herself in, penetrating his wards with ease. Clearly, he was too comfortable here to have put up nothing stronger.

She'd barely closed the door behind her when he simply materialized out of the shadows and threw her against the wall, his arm across her chest above her breasts and his wand at her throat.

She laughed delightedly and watched as he blinked in shock upon taking in her appearance.

"Miss Granger?!" he hissed distastefully. "What are you doing breaking into my room?"

He was wearing that wonderfully intimidating scowl that he had and she couldn't help but lick her lips.

He blinked at her again.

"Oh, how I've missed you, Severus," she purred. She hadn't been alone with him in months.

He stared at her for a moment, then snatched up her left wrist and yanked up the sleeve. He hissed in surprise and dropped her arm when he saw the Mark. "Who are you?" he demanded.

"Come now, you know the answer to that, love," she smirked, pursuing him slowly across the small room until his back hit the wall and she was able to press herself against him. She trailed her fingers down his chest and rubbed the back of her hand against the side of his cock, feeling it already stirring.

"Mia?" he said uneasily, his countenance softening slightly.

"Who else?" she whispered before capturing his lips with hers.

His eyes slid closed and he groaned, crushing himself against her for a moment before his eyes snapped open again and he tore his mouth away from hers. "How did you get in here?" he gasped.

"I was invited," she said primly. "Who would ever turn away Harry Potter's best friend?"

"I don't understand," he complained, and then his eyes widened. "What happened to Miss Granger? You didn't… kill her, did you?"

"Severus, my love, it warms my heart to hear what _actually _sounds like fear in that question. You really wouldn't like it if 'Miss Granger' was dead, would you?"

He cleared his throat and his face became a mask. "She's a mudblood, but she's very bright. Killing her would be a waste of a very promising witch. Perhaps she can be made to swear fealty to the Great Lord."

"Long since taken care of, love."

He looked at her with uncertainty burning behind his black eyes, his face otherwise unreadable. "I don't understand," he finally admitted, his tone irritated.

With a sigh, Hermione moved away from him to sprawl herself across the bed. "Let me tell you a story, dearest one," she drawled, fanning her hair across his pillows and lifting one knee as she left her legs spread suggestively. "It begins in the Department of Mysteries."

"Sounds intriguing," he smirked, settling himself in the space between her legs and resting one hand on her thigh. She could still see the hint of concern behind his eyes.

"She's really gotten to you, hasn't she?" she purred, running her hands seductively over her breasts and down her stomach, which his eyes followed before snapping back up to hers. "Does my body arouse you?"

He looked away from her for a moment, and she saw his throat work as he swallowed. "I've already told you, my interest in her is her mind, not her body."

"Don't be such a prude, love," she laughed. "It's _terribly _boring!"

He heaved a sigh and looked at her again. "Very well, _Mia_, if you must know, her body is quite pleasing, but I've no interest in her in that way. How could I when I have you?"

"A _very_ interesting question," she chuckled.

He frowned suspiciously, but she ignored it.

"Back to my story. Have you ever heard of the Mirror of Destiny?"

He frowned uncertainly for a moment, then shook his head. "It does not sound familiar."

"Probably because it was considered a failure," she explained. "It was created to have the ability to transport a witch or wizard through time and space to the moment of his or her destiny's inception."

"Sounds impressive," he noted.

"Oh, it is," she admitted. "Or it was. Seems that it was recently destroyed when some foolish children broke into the Department of Mysteries."

His eyes widened slightly in recognition.

"The witches and wizards who created the mirror each attempted to use it to prove that it worked," she went on. "Funnily enough, they succeeded, and called it a failure. You see, these individuals who made the mirror were each destined to do that very thing. They'd completed their destinies, and therefore had nowhere to go but right back. They never thought to test it on anyone else.

"So it remained stored away for years along with the other nearly useless junk that never functioned properly or was of ill-conceived design. To my knowledge, it was never used until late last spring."

"What are you saying?" he asked warily.

"I'm saying, that Hermione stumbled into that mirror, dear Severus. And her destiny was only just beginning."

"What destiny is that?" he gulped.

She sighed, "To destroy Lord Voldemort, I sincerely hope."

He blinked in shock and leaned away from her a little. "What did you just say?" he gasped.

She sat up and crawled over him until she straddled his lap. "To destroy that insane, snake-faced prat," she drawled.

"What do you mean?" he whispered warily.

"Let's face it, darling," she smirked, "Tommy's gone over the deep end. He was completely nutters long before his death and resurrection. Now… Ah, it's actually gotten worse. He needs to die."

"Wait, what does this have to do with Hermione?" he demanded, shifting uncomfortably as his cock once again responded to her contact.

"Oh, dear, I have gotten ahead of myself, haven't I? I do apologize," she ghosted her lips over the shell of his ear before leaning back to continue her explanation. "As I was saying, Hermione fell into the mirror. And fell out of thin air in the Great Hall at Hogwarts, literally into the arms of one Thomas. Marvolo. Riddle. In the year 1943."

His mouth fell open slightly. "She went back in time?" he whispered to himself. "To when the Great Lord was at Hogwarts?"

"Indeed," she smiled. "She resisted at first, of course. But no one can resist Tom for long. He seduced her with his stunning good looks and whispered promises of knowledge beyond that of any other witch in the world. For a long time, she believed that she could change him," she rolled her eyes. "That she could temper him. That, at the least, she could use him for his knowledge and later turn it against him."

She sighed. "She didn't even realize how far gone she was until it was far too late to go back. She eventually threw her support behind him in truth, and Lady Death was born."

He started at the name.

She nodded, "Oh, yes. You see, she soon discovered that when one goes back in time, one does not proceed with aging until she begins to move into her own future once more. So Hermione remained in the body of a sixteen-year-old while the years rolled by.

"When Tom left Britain to search out a greater understanding of the dark arts, Hermione was often his companion. He fulfilled his promise to her to bring her knowledge and power such as has never been known, and she absorbed it all. Unfortunately," she continued with a sour grimace, "Tom was never one for sharing his favorite toys. He kept vital bits from her. He ensured that his power eclipsed her own, so that, when he returned in '72, he could _bully _her into becoming little more than any other sniveling Death Eater."

Severus flinched slightly and she realized her error.

"I apologize, my love. That was not meant to include you." She ran her fingertips lightly down the side of his face. "You have been more than that to me since almost the very beginning. So brilliant, so talented, so…" she ground herself down onto his lap, "virile. You must understand though, that Hermione had been at Tom's side from the beginning. She was there when his first horcrux was born. She _nursed _him back to health when the creation of the second nearly killed him. She added her power to his to make the third."

His mouth fell open again.

"Oh, yes," she nodded, reaching into her blouse to draw out the necklace she'd been wearing for the last couple weeks. "This locket contains bits of _two _souls."

He stared at it as though he was afraid to be so close to it.

"She was at his side for _thirty years_, and he told her to _bow_ before him," she hissed furiously. She quickly got off Severus' lap and paced to the window, drawing open the curtains just enough to peek out. He didn't move from the bed.

"She joined him because he promised that she would never be one of 'them'. He _promised _that she was more, and would always be." Her face cleared and she added matter-of-factly, "He broke is promise. No one does that to me. Not even 'Lord Voldemort'. So I conjured a plan to end him."

She turned back to where Severus was still facing away from her.

"You knew he'd kill Lily," he said quietly.

"Lily's life bought us twelve years, Severus. Twelve _years_ free of him," she said coldly. "I could never figure out how to disconnect him from the horcruxes, but I was able to devise a new plan."

"Lily's dead because of you," he said numbly.

"Are you still on that?" she complained. "Honestly, Severus, I thought you were over her."

"All this time," he said, finally turning to face her, flinching slightly when his eyes met hers. "All this time, you were to blame! I trusted you, Mia! I _loved _you!"

She sighed irritably. "Severus love, please just stop and think for a moment before you embrace your father's temper and wake the entire house. Shall we consider who is really to blame for her death? Okay, how about _her_ to begin. For joining the Order of the Phoenix. For marrying that prat, Potter. For stepping between Voldemort and her son. Honestly, I may be able to respect her courage if she'd actually known that she could sacrifice herself to save him. But she didn't. She had no reason at all to believe that Harry would not follow her into death within seconds. And while we're on it, why did she not have her wand? How do you leave your wand in another room?"

She shook her head and moved on. "Then there's Albus, for recruiting her. Albus for failing to protect her. Lily and James again for trusting that rat, Wormtail. Of course, Tom, as he was the one who _actually _killed her. _You_, I am sorry to say, my love, for erroneously serving your lord, as I had admittedly encouraged you to do.

"The only thing that _I _am guilty of, is doing nothing."

"But you _knew_ what would happen!" he insisted obstinately.

"I did," I agreed. "I knew that Tom would be the next thing to dead."

She quickly crossed the room to him again and placed her hands gently on each side of his face. "Lily never loved you, Severus, not as you deserved. She was selfish and shallow, and she did _not_ deserve your love. _I _love you, Severus. Me. I have for twenty years. You have _always _known what kind of person I am. I've never hidden it from you. So don't you dare expect me to feel badly for not risking everything to save the life of that girl. Don't you dare judge me for that."

His eyes fell closed and his head bowed slowly to rest against her shoulder. "This is the real you," he said quietly. "You really are Hermione Granger."

She sat down next to him on the bed, lifting his face to hers. "Yes, love. I apologize for keeping that from you, but I could not risk the truth. Had Tom discovered that there existed a single person in this world other than him who knew of my history… You know how he gets. _Cruciatus_ here, _Avada Kedavra_ there… And Gods forbid he start to question _my _loyalty. Not now. Not when I am _so _close to destroying him."

"You seriously mean to kill him?" he asked warily. "_Kill _the Great Lord? You sound alarmingly like Albus."

She laughed heartily, "Albus is a senile old fool with his pathetic collection of children playing at destroying the most dangerous man alive. _I _am Lady Death, the witch who has spent the last fifty years with Tom Riddle, twenty of which have been occupied planning his demise."

"So what's your plan?"

"Not my plan, love, _our _plan. We are switching sides. Unless I am much mistaken, Albus has already put on the Gaunt family ring, has he not?"

Severus frowned, "Yes, but how did _you_ know?"

"It was _my _magic that prevented that ring from killing Tom, dearest. Do you really think I could put my fingers into such a thing without leaving behind a little insurance?"

His eyes narrowed. "We destroyed the ring, Mia."

"Immaterial," she shrugged. "The 'damage', as they say, has already been done. I think you'll find the old man much more amenable to your… suggestions now." She removed Salazar's locket from her neck and slipped it over Severus' head. "I've been whispering in Tom's ear a lot of late. He's decided the time has come to end Albus Dumbledore. Your duty, my sweet, is to do the deed. With this locket, he'll be begging you to kill him."

He picked up the locket warily and stared at it for a long moment before meeting her eyes again, "Tell me what to do."

* * *

**Ah, fun! I do hope you enjoyed. I now return to regularly scheduled programming. Honest.**


	2. 1 September 1943

**1 September 1943**

Hermione gasped as pain wrenched her back into consciousness, and instantly became aware that someone was holding her. She looked up into the face of the man with his arms around her and smiled slightly. Merlin, he was beautiful.

"Who are you?" she frowned.

"Tom Riddle," he said, regarding her thoughtfully.

He said something more, but Hermione didn't catch it. Her brain was too busy double and triple checking to be sure that she'd heard him correctly and that she was properly remembering where she'd heard that name before.

In a very short time, she came back with the affirmative on both counts, and promptly fainted.

* * *

She had clearly gone back in time, Hermione reasoned. She shouldn't really be so terribly surprised. Last she remembered, she'd been in the Time Room in the Department of Mysteries. If there was any feasible way to travel backward through time roughly fifty years, it had to exist in that particular room.

She remembered the mirror she'd fallen into. It now seemed certain that it had not been an ordinary mirror, though she wasn't sure why anyone would put anything at all ordinary into that room. But why fifty years? Why fifty-_three _years? Well, fifty three years less almost exactly two weeks. And was it possible that it had been meant to transport someone not only back, but to the Great Hall of Hogwarts? Even if that was true, there was no way that it could be coincidence that she'd landed in the arms of Tom Riddle. _Lord Voldemort_, at sixteen.

There had to be another reason. Perhaps she'd been thinking of him at the time – as she was fighting his death eaters, that was quite possible – and that had sent her to him, and maybe in this time because he was now the same age as her?

But, no. That didn't really make sense either. She'd evidently fallen into the welcoming feast on the first of September 1943. She'd done a lot of research on Tom Riddle after the catastrophe in the Chamber of Secrets. She knew that he was born on 31 December 1926, which would mean that he was, at this present day, sixteen years and 244 days old. She'd fallen into that mirror on the 18th of June 1996, which made her sixteen years and 273 days old. At least, according to her birthday. If she factored in the extra aging she'd done in her third year with that Time Turner, then she was actually eighteen years and 66 days old – approximately. She'd tried to keep careful count of every extra hour that she'd lived, but, in the craziness of that year, she may have missed some.

Either way, her age didn't line up well enough with Riddle's to explain why she'd come back to this particular time. Unless, of course, he'd done some time traveling of his own at this point, in which case, there was absolutely no way to be certain. Still, that seemed unlikely. It seemed fairly certain that the future would have been a much grimmer place had Tom Riddle had access to a Time Turner in his youth.

No, there had to be something more at play here. Something that she didn't know about the mirror.

"Miss Granger?"

The voice snapped her out of her private thoughts, and she nearly sighed with relief when she saw Dumbledore approaching her bed.

"How do you know my name?" she found herself asking before wondering if it was a smart question. This was not the Dumbledore that she knew in her time, she had to remember. A person could change a very great deal in fifty years, particularly fifty years plagued with war of varying intensity. Trusting him just because he was certainly a young Albus Dumbledore seemed foolish.

"The young man who carried you up here, Mr. Riddle, said that you told him your name was Hermione Granger. Is that correct?" he asked pleasantly.

That tone and the kindness in his eyes made her want to believe that she could trust Dumbledore completely, but some part of her flinched away from that desire. When had she become so paranoid? Oh right, maybe somewhere between fighting Death Eaters and finding herself in the arms of the most evil dark wizard of all time. Even trusting herself seemed dangerous right now. She could only hope that feeling would fade with time.

"That's right," she said distractedly as another question reared its head. Could she go home? Time Turners only went in one direction, but they only went back up to twenty-four hours. Surely, a device that could send someone back not only years but decades, must have a reverse, right? Who would want to live so many years in the past? Then again, it had been a mirror, and it didn't seem to have come with her. How could she go back without the device? Maybe it would automatically recall her after the passage of a certain amount of time?

Then again, maybe it wouldn't. If it had worked so bloody well, why had it been tucked away into a corner of that room as though it had been forgotten for years?

"You were gravely injured, Miss Granger," Dumbledore's voice intruded again. "By a dark curse the likes of which I have never seen." His tone indicated that he'd thought he'd seen about all of them. What was she to make of that? Did he make a habit of learning dark spells? Was it in the pursuit of defense against such spells, or something else? She was being unduly suspicious again, but she couldn't seem to help herself. "What happened to you?"

"I don't remember really clearly," she found herself saying. The fear of hesitated too long and giving herself away had her lying with little thought of premeditation. She may have been making a grave error in lying to Albus Dumbledore, but the truth was too dangerous. What would happen if he knew she was from the future? Would he try to help her get back, or would he try to use her knowledge of the future? Would that be a bad thing? She could potentially stop the war right now if Dumbledore knew what Tom Riddle would become.

Then again, she could mar the timeline so badly that she may never be born at all.

"Were you attacked?" he pressed gently, conjuring a chair at her bedside.

"I think so," she nodded, her tone yet conveying the distance her thoughts were taking her from the conversation. She really needed to focus, but her mind just wouldn't settle down. Too much had happened. Too much had gone wrong. Too many questions could simply not be answered.

"Where were you when it happened?"

Well, the truth wasn't an option. Couldn't very well say that she'd been at the Ministry, nor in the Department of Mysteries, and certainly _not _in the Time Room. That would make the whole truth rather obvious, wouldn't it? She needed to think. She needed to come up with a story that may have some hope of convincing one of the brightest wizards in the world. She was probably daft to even attempt that, but she was desperate enough to try.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I'm really not feeling well," she found herself saying, cursing the edge of desperation in her voice. "Perhaps we could talk more after I've rested a bit?" _After I've had time to think of a plan._

"Of course," he said kindly, picking a bottle from her bedside table and uncorking it. "This will help you to rest peacefully. I'll return when it wears off."

Dreamless Sleep, she realized. Did he suspect something? He was giving her a potion to ensure that she had no time to plot while he was gone. She _needed _time to think, and he was going to make sure she didn't get it.

_Of course_, he suspected something. He was Albus Dumbledore. He probably used Legilimency without conscious thought. She hoped that she'd know if he was actually searching her mind – Harry had told her about how uncomfortable, even painful that was – but even if he wasn't actively searching her memories, he must have been picking up enough to know that she was lying. Legilimens were notorious for the ability to detect lies.

And now he was putting the potion to her lips. She couldn't refuse. That would be as good as admitting her lies. Well, at least her mind may have calmed a little when she was better rested. She opened her mouth and swallowed down the potion, feeling sleep tugging at her immediately.

She fought it without really meaning to. She was terrified of waking up to this man's face again with no better plan in mind. She fought it as the world went gray around the edges and darkness began to close in. She fought it as her breathing evened out, slowing and deepening. She fought it as hard as she could, but the darkness came anyway.

She shoved herself against the darkness and felt her magic flare angrily in response to her desperation, but she couldn't defeat the suddenly weightless abyss that surrounded her.

After a long moment, she realized that it was over. It wasn't pulling on her anymore, though she couldn't force her way back through it either. She was asleep. But she wasn't actually unconscious.

She was surrounded by blackness, but fully conscious. She couldn't move her body, or even really feel it, but she was entirely coherent.

Her mind raced with the possibilities, searching through her mental library for any applicable reference to explain her current situation. Dreamless Sleep was supposed to render one completely and totally incoherent. That was the whole point. It put the mind into a state of rest so deep that not even dreams could reach it. From accounts she'd heard of people who'd used it, it was akin to a long blink as one falling unconscious linked immediately with one waking.

So what had happened? Did it have something to do with the way she'd been fighting it? Had she somehow managed to withdraw her mind into a part of her subconscious that the potion couldn't reach? She hated herself for not studying Occlumency and other mind magic more thoroughly.

She didn't know how long she thought about that before she realized the opportunity she'd discovered. She now had ample time to figure out what she was going to do about her predicament and the oddly intimidating specter of the young Albus Dumbledore. Well, she wasn't sure exactly how ample her time might be. It was possible that time outside her mind was progressing much more quickly than time in this dreamlike state of consciousness. She may perceive only minutes while hours passed. Alternately, the opposite may also be true. She may very well be stuck in this state for what would feel like days or perhaps months while hours passed for her body.

She shrugged that off as quickly as she could. It didn't matter. Right now, the only thing that mattered was using what time she had. When and if she'd devised a credible plan, she could then worry about her most immediate situation.

First, she had to decide how she was going to explain to Dumbledore that she'd dropped out of thin air into Hogwarts despite the wards, and bearing a wound from a nasty dark curse.

She wished that she could remember more of the history she'd read. She knew that she'd read about the war against Grindelwald, and that had been going on in 1943. If she knew more about him, surely she could devise a believable explanation about encountering one of his men. But why would she be targeted? And where might she have been when it happened?

She racked her brain to remember everything she'd ever read on the subject.

And then she noticed something strange.

She was no longer in complete darkness.

As quickly as she'd noticed the light, she found herself in a well-lit little library or study, maybe two hundred books on the shelves lining the walls, a large, beautiful oak desk in the middle of the room, with a very comfortable-looking chair behind it. There were no candles on the walls, nor a hearth to provide warmth or light, but the room was somehow still comfortably bright and warm.

She was standing next to the desk. Actually standing, her body fully present, though she now wore clean jeans and a light gray jumper. There was no pain as she'd felt when awake, and a quick check proved that the wound was not there at all. She was still in her mind, she concluded.

She was then drawn toward the books. She quickly found that she recognized many of them. _Hogwarts: A History_. _Advanced Potion Making_. All of the school books from every year she'd attended was present. A more careful examination proved that she recognized every single book. In fact, she'd _read _every single book.

Her eyes widened as realization dawned. She'd often thought of her "mental library" when she'd been trying to remember something from a particular book, but she realized now that she was literally standing in her mental library.

A small giggle escaped her at the prospect of having access to the exact words from every book she'd ever read. Her memory had always been good, but never perfect. She'd not have had needed to take so many notes had it been perfect. This was the most amazing discovery she'd ever found. If only she could find a way to access this part of her mind when she wasn't in a potion-induced magical sleep.

She shook those thoughts quickly. Now wasn't the time to dwell on that. Right now, she needed to use this unexpected advantage to refresh her memory of what she'd read about 1943 and the war against Grindelwald.

Almost as soon as the thought occurred to her, she found herself facing the history section of her little library. She reached out and her fingers found the book she was seeking without any thought. She'd read it over the summer after fourth year. It was a history book centered around Grindelwald. It had seemed particularly applicable considering that Voldemort had just gotten himself a new body and the wizarding world was about to enter another war against a dark wizard. She'd read a couple about the war against Voldemort too, but that wasn't her most pressing concern at the moment, as that wouldn't happen for roughly thirty years. She'd worry about Voldemort after she'd dealt with Dumbledore.

As soon as she opened the book, she began to recall all of it as though she'd just read it. She paged through and the memory became stronger. She didn't even need to read it. It was more like the simple act of opening this book had allowed her to perfectly access the memory of reading it.

She was grinning ear-to-ear as she selected a more general history book and repeated the process. This was going to save her so much time, and it just might allow her to be prepared to face Dumbledore when the potion wore off.

After brushing up on every snippet of information she'd ever read about the war against Grindelwald, Hermione sat down behind the beautiful desk and tried to order her thoughts regarding exactly what she'd say to Dumbledore.

After a while, she realized that the best lies in the world weren't going to do her any good if he could just read her mind.

With that thought, she rose and went to the bookshelves again, instantly locating the two books on Occlumency and the three on Legilimency that she'd read when Harry had been trying to learn it. She'd wanted to know if there was anything she could do to help him when she'd read the books. She'd also wanted to know exactly how much danger he might be in if he failed to learn it.

Well, the latter had been answered pretty decisively, hadn't it? They'd been lured into the Ministry, and Sirius had never been there at all as far as she could tell. She'd ended up fifty years in the past. She didn't know if Harry and Ron had, or _would _survive that day. Maybe if she figured out how to go back, she could see that they did. If she had to live fifty years in the interim, well, then she'd still make sure that she was there to help them when the time came.

Forcing those thoughts from her mind before she could really begin to explore the depressing possibility that she truly was stuck living out her life from this point on, she opened the books and refreshed her memory.

While she knew that it wasn't technically possible to master Occlumency with a Legilimens to challenge her, and vice versa, she was determined to make as much progress as possible. If she was learning this on the fly when Dumbledore tried to reach her mind, she was going to be prepared.

After what felt like many hours, she thought she'd decently accomplished the task of raising barriers around her mind.

She pictured the barrier as made of solid diamond, as that was the hardest substance that she could think of. Since it was her head that she wanted to protect, she imagined the barrier as lining the inside of her skull, sealing away the thoughts within and keeping them to herself. With some surprise, she discovered that it resembled a crystal ball with uncanny accuracy.

After a moment of thought, she decided that she liked that idea. Her thoughts swirled within the crystal ball that was her mind. From there, it was easy to imagine a Legilimens attempting to draw her thoughts to the surface of the ball, and therefore protecting against it.

She was in the midst of that exercise when the voice suddenly reverberated through her little library.

"Miss Granger," came the gentle voice of Albus Dumbledore, attempting to draw her toward consciousness.

She resisted. The potion must have worn off if he was attempting to wake her, but she wondered if it was possible to avoid waking if she wished it.

"Miss Granger," it came again. She felt a pressure on her arm, though nothing had touched it. Or, nothing that she could see in her mental library.

Still, she felt no particular compulsion to leave her library or move or wake at all. Evidently, she could stay here. And, if the potion truly had worn off, then perhaps this place was not restricted to being accessed only under such circumstances.

Of course, she knew that she had to "wake" or Dumbledore would likely become concerned. She wasn't sure if a _reenervate_ would force her out of this, but she was pretty sure she was about to find out. With that in mind, she followed the sound of his voice back to her body, trying to be hyper aware of the path she took as the library faded around her. She _really _wanted to find her way back here later. Access to this kind of memory retrieval was absolutely priceless.

At last, that slightly floaty feeling that she'd stopped thinking about vanished and the pain in her body invaded her awareness. She cracked her eyes open with surprising effort, and found twinkling blue eyes shining down on her. It was an effort not to pull a face at him.

Determined to have made the night's work worth it, she instantly reached for the Occlumency shields she'd been practicing, and she felt them settle around her mind.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"A little better," she admitted, evaluating her various aches and pains to determine that that was, in fact, truth.

He nodded. "Now, if I may be so bold, I would like to continue our conversation."

She nodded. She didn't expect there was any way out of it.

"I was wondering where you were when you were attacked," he reminded her.

Hermione summoned the story she'd been working on while she "slept". It was a risky gamble, but the best she had at the moment that may be believable. "I'm not sure the name of the town," she started, "It was a small place with a small wizarding population. I was just leaving the town when he attacked me. He was wearing a cloak, so I didn't get a good look at him. He hit me with that curse, and the next thing I knew, I was here.

"This is Hogwarts, right? The school?"

He nodded thoughtfully, watching her with twinkleless blue eyes.

She almost flinched when she first became aware that he was attempting to enter her mind, but she managed to hold his eyes while she struggled to modify the shield to keep him out. This definitely wasn't the ideal way to learn Occlumency, but it may have been the fastest. This was not merely an exercise, and her success mattered a very great deal.

"What were you doing in the village?" he asked after a moment. His tone was gentle and compassionate, as though he was not attempting to rape her mind even while he spoke.

It was a significant challenge to split her focus between constantly modifying her shield while he continuously modified his attempts to breach it and to lie convincingly. "I was hungry," she said quietly, the lie giving her an excuse to break his gaze as she looked down at her lap as though she was embarrassed.

"Where do you live, Miss Granger?" he probed gently.

She shrugged, "Wherever."

"Your parents?" he asked with compassion that she'd have believed if he wasn't _still _trying to enter her mind. It was easier to evade him without the eye contact, but still a challenge.

"I'm an orphan," she informed her hands in her lap. "I ran away from the home when I was ten." That would explain why she'd never received her Hogwarts letter when she was eleven.

"You've been living on your own since then?"

"I won't go back," she said defiantly, forced to raise her eyes to his to sell the tone. The intensity of his mental probing instantly doubled. He must be aware that she was fighting his attempts, but he gave no indication of such. "I'll be seventeen in a few weeks."

"And what will you do then?" he wondered. "I assume that you have no magical education?"

She shook her head, "Nothing formal." She looked away again. She assumed that she would have no hope of keeping him from her mind if he really pressed it, but he was being gentle, maybe trying to avoid alerting her. He may have assumed that her defenses were instinctive.

"What kind of education have you had?" he wondered.

"Just what I've found in books and such," she said quietly. "I read whenever I can."

"And where do you find books?"

"Sometimes I go to the library in London." That much was actually true. The London Library had a fantastic wizarding section in the basement. It was almost as good as the Hogwarts library. She'd spent many hours there during the summers since she got her Hogwarts letter.

"I noticed that you have one of Ollivander's wands," he noted absently.

"I didn't steal it," she snapped irritably, instantly berating herself for the emotional response, even though she thought it was probably appropriate to her cover story. She had to think about what she was saying.

"How did you get it?"

She thought very quickly. She couldn't say that she'd purchased it. Where would she have gotten the money? The answer came to her more readily than she really liked. When had she become so good at lying?

Maybe since her life had depended on it?

"I found it," she said quietly. "It was broken. I fixed it."

His brow rose. "You wandlessly repaired a broken wand? Repairing wands is something that even Ollivander has difficulty with, and that is with his wand."

She shrugged uncomfortably. "I read a book about wandlore. And it seemed to like me, I guess."

He nodded thoughtfully. "Very impressive, Miss Granger. I have to ask though, how did you come to be here? From what I saw, it looked like an apparation, but considering that you were wounded, and that apparation inside of Hogwarts is not possible, I have to wonder."

"I don't know," she told him quite honestly. "He hit me with the curse, and I… I fell. I was afraid. I wanted to get away. I wanted to go somewhere safe. If I apparated, I didn't realize it. I have no idea how I got into Hogwarts."

The pressure on her mind grew almost to the point of pain, and Hermione realized that he was overcoming her defenses. She looked down at her lap again, but it was too late. He was already in. Desperately, she looked at him again. She focused on his eyes. Solely and completely on his eyes. Though he'd made it through her shields, she used the image of his too-blue eyes to block his attempts to garner any of her memories.

After a moment, she was satisfied to see those eyes widen. He literally leaned back away from her.

"If you wouldn't mind, sir, I'm hungry," she said quietly, looking away from him, but keeping the imagine of those eyes in her mind.

"Of course," he said quietly, his voice distant. "I'll send a house elf with something for you to eat."

And with that, he left her alone in the infirmary.

Hermione waited until he was well and truly gone to sigh heavily and bury her face in her hands. She had no idea what she was doing lying to Albus Dumbledore, but she'd made her bed now. All she could do is take this one hour at a time, and try to find a way home.

* * *

**Okay, so the next chapter will resume in 1996, and then we'll come back to 1943 in chapter four. I'm thinking to continue alternating present day and flashbacks every other chapter, but I'm not certain yet. If you have an opinion on that, let me know. Either way, I love reviews. Lots. Don't be shy.**

**BTW:** As I have 3 other fics going right now, this one will be updated infrequently for right now, when I get inspiration for it. Sorry about that. Hopefully, I will have more energy to devote to it once I've finished my Dramione.


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